Broken
by florescka
Summary: Alfred is in a cult that kidnaps children for their ransoms. One of these target, however, was his brother! Rated M for language, AU, angst, lemon and 'training' from Ivan.
1. Chapter 1

_**Now this is MY first fanfic. Totally original. I know that my writing style is very different from meh friend's(who shall be nicknamed Shroomz from now on.) , but I hope that you all like it! You guys made us 2 very happy fangirls with your reviews on Shroomz's last fanfic, Making the Grade. Oh and last thing, I don't know anything about a stgw 90, so don't ask me anything about it. I simply typed in "Swiss guns" and i randomly chose one that looked cool. X3**_

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_Ivan stared amusingly at the cowering boy in front of him. The child stayed in the corner of the room, whispering in silent litany that it was all a dream. He hugged his knees in a vice-like grip; water flowed steadily from his closed eyes onto his damaged olive skin. His golden hair was a mess; dripping wet with salty tears. The clothes that he wore when he got here were now scattered throughout the dark cell. Ivan could see the boy's beautiful body, ah such perfection! What man could attain such a beauty and pureness as this jewel? He shook his head. No. No one. The moonlight's glow gave the room little clarity as the only exit, the only way to freedom, the only passage way for air and light, was the door that he now blocked, leaning on it with his back._

"_It wasn't that bad now was it, Alfred?" Ivan smiled, playing with the hollow where the door knob locked. Alfred stiffened at the voice. Throughout his month here, he dreaded everyone. He dreaded the men that brought him food, the men that spoke to him, the men that would come at night asking for his body, but, most of all, he dreaded this voice; this man that spoke to him, the man that 'trained' him. _

"_I-i-i---"Alfred stuttered, much too terrified to say his name. "I-ivan." He finally said, tears threatening to drown him._

"_Now, don't cry my pet. You're lucky we only went that far today. Others have to go through it until they pass out. You should be happy, da?" Ivan smiled with child-like vigor. "I didn't spend money on nothing, you know. For all I know, you could be starving in the streets in the middle of Russia's coldest winter! You should be glad I got you!" Alfred cringed as he was reminded, subtly, of…….. that._

_The Russian man furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. "Now come on, show me that beautiful smile, da? Or should we go through another lesson?" Alfred shuddered uncontrollably and in one fluid motion faced Ivan and gave him a smile. His face ached as his unwilling facial muscles grunted in displeasure and force. _

_Ivan laughed, "That's more like it! Be like that more often and I might let you in the group."_

~.+o+.~

Alfred jerked as he woke from his nap, eyebrows furrowing as his vision came into focus. Then he scowled.

"Fucking dream, what the fuck am I remembering the fucking past for?"

It had been ten years since then. He grew older, grew more experienced, and grew through every torture, every pain. But, living this life, he grew with biggest hole one can carry in his heart.

Alfred's hands crept down under the sheets looking for something. Once he found said thing, he brought it out from below and held it in his hands. A smirk pulled on his lips. Its shiny metal exterior gleamed as it reflected the light from the lone bulb. Then he cocked the small hand-gun with his right hand and shot the wall with its many other bullet holes, accurately targeting a specific one off to the side.

-Bang-

Being partly blind and needing glasses, this was a true feet. As a child, he had been trained to use guns, trained to use grenades, trained to tie up people in the most effective way, trained to poison, trained to persuade, trained for hours and hours to be heartless and without mercy. Sure, there was that, but, amongst other things, perhaps the only thing he learned, the only thing he was trained to do, was kill.

Heavy banging on his worn-out door caught his attention. Soon, loud shouts came from behind the old wood.

"Alfred you fucking asshole! You almost fucking shot me! I thought I told you to fucking stop shooting the fucking wall!" Ugh…. His neighbor from the next room over. How he _hated _that Cuban. He hated him with a burning passion. Everything about him annoyed him to the guts. Maybe it was his dreadlocks, or his accent, or that he smelled like fucking tobacco all the fucking time.

"Shut the hell up, bastard! It ain't my fault your fucking room is next to mine!"

The Cuban, Ramon, continued ranting behind the door. The smell of tobacco slowly crept in from the gaps of the hinges. Annoyed, the American aimed the gun towards the door. He cocked the gun, aiming, steadying the heavy object.

"THE FUCK MAN-"

-bang-

"JESUS CHRIST! You nearly killed me, you prick!"

"Tch. I missed_." _Alfred stood up from his bed and gathered his items. It was always the same things for him: gun, money, fake I.D., and driver's license. After a quick inspection of his room, he stalked his way towards the door. Fortunately, the Cuban left after the near kill, but _hell _the smell was nauseating.

Alfred made his way to the kitchen, going through the grimy hallways of the abandoned building. Bullet holes permeated the walls and graffiti was littered everywhere. He turned left at a corner and walked straight down that hallway. As the kitchen neared, the smell of tomatoes filled the air. Alfred didn't seem to quite like it, but it was a hell of a lot better than that tobacco shit.

When Alfred entered the kitchen, a grumpy Italian glanced at him through squinted eyes, grumbling something under his breath. Then he quickly turned around to the stove, tending his half-cooked pasta. Alfred just looked at the man's figure from the door. He watched as the Italian prepared the sauce: adding pepper, salt, oil, spices, and tomatoes. Lots of tomatoes. Occasionally, he mixed the pasta in the boiling water; he would add just a tiny pinch of salt into the boiling liquid. Alfred enjoyed watching the man prepare spaghetti. It was all like a dance to him.

"Izzat for dinner?" Alfred asked. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly.

"What the hell do you think it's for?" Grumbled the Italian, he was mixing the meat into the sauce now. "It's already 5:20 pm, of course it's for dinner."

~.+o+.~

The men gathered in the cluttered room and sat in wobbly mismatched chairs in front of a wide table. It was probably a table used for meetings and the like; at least it seemed that way. But this wasn't a meeting. It was dinner, and everyone attended. It had been a long-standing rule that no one be late to dinner; it was made by the leader himself. But if this were to be a meeting, then let this be a World Conference. Different races gather to talk and feast on different dishes. Across the table sat an Italian, an American, Cuban, Chinese, German, Swiss. It was a background of more than one ethnic. They mingled and spoke to each other, discussing plans of what to do for the next "assignment".

"I heard Lovi made dinner tonight. Let me guess, spaghetti?" asked the Swiss. The stgw 90 strapped to his back clunk against the backrest of his chair as he stretched his back. Ammunition was strapped to leather and worn around his waist and over his shoulder. Several hand guns jutted out of their holsters by the man's belt. And, concealed under his clothes, were two other mini guns strapped around his thighs. _Man,_ this freak really loved guns.

"Well, it's better than Ludwig's potato-wurst special". Jeered a complacent Italian, "Seriously, Vash. You can't disagree with me."

The German, offended by the brown-head's remark, only grunted. He glared angrily at the Italian. What the heck was that guy's problem? Then, brushing it off, he waited for the leader to arrive.

"Where the hell is the boss? I'm gonna fucking starve to death before he comes!" yelled an enraged Cuban. Down the table, an American cursed silently, clutching his gun tightly in his hand. His hand quivered as it continually twitched, trying with all of his might not to pull the trigger on the man.

The black haired man noticed the American. Then he spoke up.

" You have to calm down, aru. The boss will be here soon." The Chinese told the Cuban. No one ever mentioned it, but it was another rule. There will be no deaths during dinner.

"Yeah, Ramon. Listen to Yao for once." The stern faced German told Ramon. He never really spoke during the 'meetings', it was a miracle that he even spoke tonight. One thing was for sure though; he held a great respect for the leader. That was honestly and undeniably true.

"I ain't fucking listening to a guy that sells drugs!" Ramon exclaimed to Ludwig. Ludwig just shook his head.

"That's a lot coming from someone who _smokes _cigarettes."

"That's not fair, aru!" Yao pouted, "You should look at yourself in the mirror, aru!"

"How did we get into this ridiculous conversation?" Vash questioned the air, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. More of his guns clanked as they hit the table and surrounding chairs.

"All of you, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" an angry American stood up. Everyone silenced at the sound of his voice. They were smart; no one messed with the boss' favorite. That and the fact that the man could kill all of them using only three bullets.

"YOU GUYS ARE THE MOST FUCKI-"

The American trailed off as he felt the door to the room open and felt air blow around his feet. He knew what was coming. He knew what would happen next. He was here. The _boss _was here. Alfred slowly turned around to face the said man and the two people who followed behind him. Alfred almost lost his appetite. The man of his nightmares has just entered the room.

"That's a lively conversation, da?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: lol, next chappy's here!_**

**_I'm so sorry if you've been waiting long for this. I'll try to post around the weekends because its one of those hectic last weeks of school, you know? Plus, I'm gonna feel bad if I don't stay punctual with these stuff. Double plus, if a chappy is late, just know that I have to wait until Shroomz reads them and checks over it before I post it. So yeah, that's my excuse. Anyways, enjoy!_**

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The tall Russian smiled brightly at the group of men sitting around the long table. Under his shadow, two figures were visible behind his tall frame. One of them was a tall bespectacled man; the other, a short platinum blonde-haired woman.

The woman clung close to the boss and glared at everyone in the room. Her white-bow-headband swayed as she turned her body, looking around suspiciously. When her eyes stopped at the American standing up with his mouth open, she quickly unsheathed a hidden knife, brandishing it so that the light reflected on its metallic surface. Everyone knew that the boss' sister was a bit… strange but this was just normal. This notion was like her daily greeting. It was simply her way of expressing,

"I'm gonna drag you down to hell if you attack my future husband."

Quite the opposite, the man beside her just stood silently behind the boss. Every now and then, he would glance up from his clipboard towards the commotion that he knew Natalia was creating. But right after the quick peek, it was back to the papers and numbers. No one would say it out loud, but it was obvious that the Estonian was the glue that bound the group together. Without the clever organizer, the group would just fall apart. It's with his superior intelligence and information gathering skills that the groups gets enough money.

Then there was the boss. The strange and mysterious boss. If there was a weirdness competition of the three, it was obvious he would win. Perhaps it was his face, which is always buried under a mask, or his doppelganger that would occasionally show its face from beneath all the muscle and skin. Or maybe just the fact that he would be wearing heavy winter clothes all the time, even during the hottest summers. Along with the stuffy clothes, he would always be wearing a scarf as if the scarf came with him. When you open the box, it would be on him and you could never take it off. Never once did anyone see him without that scarf. But people took caution. It was forbidden to ask his reasoning, especially after what happened to Kiku.

_Once upon a time, there was a Japanese man that asked why he wore such clothing. Ivan invited him over for a night and he was never seen again. The End._

That was a well-known story within the group. But, it was only a story, right? Another one of those stories like the boogeyman and Santa Claus that make children be good? A little fable intended to make children behave like puppets on a string. Just another lie prepared by parents to shove down children's throats until, under their fear-instilled terror, they obey. Right?

No. It was the truth and what better proof than the brother of the victim himself.

"Ivan." The black-haired Chinese said. He frowned at the tall Russian, eyes full of hate. His hand slowly wandered down into his pants, taking hold of something. A small click was heard around the room. Yao stood up from his seat, bringing to light a qsz-92 pistol. He aimed the handgun at Ivan, his face vengeful.

"This is for Honda!"

-bang-

With inhuman speed, Natalia, who stood behind Ivan glaring at everybody, jumped from her place and used her blade to deflect the bullet. The bullet, cut in two, fell to the ground with a thud. Yao, heaving deep breaths, stood, gun still pointed at the Russian.

Natalia's small frame crouched down like a statue, still in the position of her landing. ."A possible threat? No. Of course not. Not when I am here! I know what you're all thinking! 'A little girl can't hurt me' but HA! You didn't expect this, huh? Never thought I wouldn't come prepared? You thought that I would leave my future husband alone with you guys, huh? Thought his body guard won't show up this time?" She scowled at the Chinese, "Well, suck it!"

There was a reason that she was the boss' body guard and that was because she could block any attacks cast against him. That and the fact that she was only one in the room that could actually talk back to the boss and still live.

"Isn't everyone having a lot of fun today?" Ivan said, ignoring the incident. He gestured towards the American, "Can I see you after dinner, Alfred?"

Alfred grudgingly sat back down, mumbling to himself about how fucked up his life is. This isn't good. As far as the he could remember, the only person who ever returned from Ivan's room was him. Alfred _hated _going into that psycho's room. It was just so fucking _awkward._ What more, he couldn't just simply brush it off. Doing so was suicide. And whenever he does get invited, it was usually only for one thing and one thing only.

Taking that as a 'yes', Ivan turned and smiled at the company. Before he took his seat though, he remembered one thing. "Ah, Natalia, can you please not threaten my pets?"

The Belarusian looked at her brother. After processing what he had said, she sullenly put away the blade. Natalia quickly forgot about her depression and gave the big Russian a hug.

"I love you, брат."

After her affectionate hug, she gave a defiant stare towards the Chinese, who sat back down as if everything that had transpired was normal.

A shudder ran through Ivan's spine and then, with a touch of fear in his voice, hurriedly addressed the group. "Weshallhavedinnernow, da?"

~.+O+.~

The Italian strode light-heartedly into the kitchen to get dinner. As he left, Ivan and his followers sat at one end of the table. Ivan, of course, sat at the very end, the Estonian sat to his right and his sister to the left.

"I still don't get why I can't sit as your right-hand man, brother," Complained a very annoyed Belarusian, "I mean I'm _stronger_ than that weakling and I'm more worthy of your trust. And _if _there comes a time when that guy stabs you in the back, I will track him down and bring his head to you. All for our love, brother." She snuggled close to Ivan. The tall, blonde man retracted as the woman hugged his arm.

The Estonian ignored Natalia's intentional insult. Instead, he looked over his clipboard of information. His glasses constantly slipped as he looked down on today's assignment.

Just before the Russian had time to reply, Lovino emerged from the Kitchen doors flaunting a delicious-looking dish. The smell of spices filled the enclosed room. And tomatoes. Never forget about the tomatoes. Everyone in the room breathed in that heavenly scent. Why shouldn't they? Aside from Yao, the Italian was the best cook in the group.

"Just about fucking time, Lovi!" Ramon exclaimed. "I'm fucking starved like hell!"

The boss made a face, "Now, now, Ramon. I think our best hit-man should get the first plate, da?"

"Like hell he will." The Cuban murmured.

The boss' face contorted. "What did you say?" he asked with a cold voice. A dull Пистолет Макарова, rusted in its years of fine and exceptional work, _somehow_ found its way into the leader's hand, _somehow _found its way aiming at the Cuban, and _somehow _found its way being cocked by the Russian's gloved finger.

The Cuban shook in fear, drops of sweat falling from his forehead. Loud sirens started a distress signal in the his head. In the back of his brain, his mind issued a warning and he was wise to listen to what it had to say. "Nothing, sir!" he added, not wanting to offend the boss any longer. He'd seen what happened to the people who disobeyed him and it was not pretty.

The boss smiled that creepy smile again, his mood turning a complete 180. "Oh, I thought you said something!" he chuckled, "Oh well, shall we pass out the plates Lovino?"

Down the table, the Swiss nudged the Cuban, his guns hitting the table. "I think it is better to keep your mouth shut lest you make the boss see red."

Realizing that he _was_ thatclose to death, Ramon morosely nodded.

~.+o+.~

The party mingled and exchanged information at the long table. Dirty plates, utensils and an empty serving dish were left, forgotten, on the table. Empty glasses, some half-full (or half empty if you're suicidal) sat beside every plate. An Estonian presented this week's goal.

"So our target this week is a millionaire's kid. The target's name shall be kept confidential until further notice. The target's data: age- 19, male, born on July 1st, currently attends Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Canadian, blonde hair, violet eyes, currently under the custody of one parent, hobbies- hockey, video games, studying, siblings-"

"I think that is enough information now, Eduard, da?" the Russian threw a cautious glance at the American who gazed the other way, head on palm, looking bored.

"uhm…. If you say so…" The bespectacled man curiously peeked at Alfred, who seemed uninterested with half-lidded eyes.

"So that's this week's goal. I expect another wonderful job from everybody." Ivan beamed at the table then stood up to leave. "Alfred, if you would accompany me to my quarters?"

Alfred stood up from his chair after the big Russian, muttering a steady stream of curses under his breath. It was silent. Just it always is when Ivan asked that question. But Alfred found amusement in this, he smirked. It never ceased to amaze him the fact that everyone waited until the pair left the room before all movement resumed again.

"I forgot my glasses at your '_quarters_' last time. You don't mind if I go get them, do you?"

"With pleasure, Alfred." Ivan grinned, "Lead the way."

The Russian's frozen and empty heart revived with a burning want, its beating reached his face which grew into a wide smile. This was a promise to something great.

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**_A/N: Yes, yes, I know that some of them are a little OOC, but I try okay?_**

**_ 'nyways, next chapter is gonna be a treat! It's gonna be cowritten with Shroomz, look forward to it!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Sorry for the wait! so here's a nice, juicy chapter for ya guys!_**

**_Oh and thanks to Shroomz for getting me started on the action ^^ _**

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The tall Russian led the American to his room. The routine had been all too familiar to the men that they could walk the hallways backwards blindfolded. Not a word was exchanged between the two, knowing full well that they would be needing all their energy for later. Ivan constantly peaked at the Alfred who stared back with astonishing blue eyes; knowing eyes, eyes that hid the flavor of excitement behind its glossy surface.

"Such a wonderful color," Ivan grinned as the American acknowledged his comment, "It makes me want to pluck them out and cherish them forever."

~.+o+.~

Alfred grew used to the boss' fluttering desires. He would rant about his life's problems and all its difficulties and he would always ask the blonde his help to escape reality. That only shows the value of Alfred to the boss; he was a diamond in the rough, a beast behind a human face. Ivan would spend all his sadistic pleasure onto the young American and train him. After all, the American was his scapegoat. He was his favorite pet.

~.+o+.~

After walking for a few minutes and heading up to the top floor, the men reached their destination. Both men stood in front of a massive steel door that Alfred knew, to his annoyance, as Ivan's room. The large bolted hinges of the room never ceased to bring him back to the days when he was brutally trained by the big Russian.

Ivan placed his hand on the identity scanner. The scanner swiped a long green rod across the big man's hand then beeped in recognition and opened the door to the boss' chambers.

When both men had entered the dark room, the door suddenly closed and a satisfying lock echoed throughout the room.

"Let's play Alfred, da?" The white-haired man giggled, a sick smile distorting his features.

"Shut the fuck up and let's get this over with," said an annoyed blonde.

Ivan wasted no time in slamming him onto the bed which they had somehow reached. It creaked as two bodies grinded against each other on the bed. Alfred smirked as the larger man advanced on him. Ivan's hands entwined themselves into his hair, tightly gripping their roots. If he wasn't used to the rough treatment, he was sure that tears would be making themselves down his face as his body was abused by the Russian.

Ivan ripped off the other's shirt, exposing the beautiful chest of the blonde. He then attacked the man's nipples, biting them and letting saliva drip down to his stomach. While he toyed with one, his hand would squeeze the other. Alfred grunted in displeasure,

"Shit, Ivan. No teasing, I just want to fucking get this ov-"

Alfred was silenced as a rough tongue invaded his mouth. It hungrily entered the warm cavern, knowing only too well every inch of the wet cave. He swirled his tongue, dancing with the other, sucking and biting. The guy was so _fucking_ dominating.

As Ivan French kissed the blonde, his skillful hands made their way down the man's body, scratching the lovely white skin and leaving streaks of red across his chest.

His hands reached the small bulge protruding from the American's pants. He expertly undid the button and pulled down the zipper, hastily forcing the cloth off his legs.

"You know, your skin reminds me of General Winter's endless white snow." Ivan giggled then forcefully clutched the man's crotch. Alfred cringed; the feel of the strong hand on his erection caused pain. "At least it used to be until it fell to the ground," The deep violet eyes of the Russian winced in remembrance, "Then it turned red. Funny, da?"

The big man flipped the blonde over, his naked bum forming a delicious round sight for the Russian. Ivan stripped his heavy clothes, loving the free feeling below his waist. As he slipped out of his garments, he repeatedly struck the American's ass with his hand, leaving deep red marks on it. Each slap caused the blonde to buckle in his position, a moan escaping his abused mouth.

Ivan _loved _the sound of the moaning man on his knees. He drank up the sight of his quivering frame, a smile creeping up his face. The big man continued spanking the American with his right hand, his other working on getting himself hard. The American, blushed a very deep red and squinted his eyes in aggravation, moaned,

"F-fuck me already!"

"What was that? Did you just talk back to your boss?" Ivan's face broke into an even bigger smile, a crazy smile, "I guess I have no choice then~"

Without warning, the big man aimed at the other's hole and thrusted in, his full length ripping apart the flesh.

"F-F-FUCK YOU!" Alfred winced as pain shot throughout his body. He was painfully aware of the blood dripping down from his anus.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, da?" The Russian's child-like innocence showed through his contorted face.

The ragged breathing of the American below him filled the cold room. Ivan pulled out of the bleeding entrance of his partner, receiving a sigh relief from the American. When he abruptly thrust back in; cold, electric sweat littered the Russian's body as he smiled in sadistic pleasure.

"I'll make you red, _Alfred_," his Russian accent told Alfred who cursed at the man.

Ivan then started to pound onto the blonde, each thrust getting a satisfying moan from the American. Blood stained the white linen sheets of the boss' bed. The white-haired man's hands gripped Alfred's hips for support, leaving bruises on the man's skin.

Alfred's entrance tightened as his prostrate was hit repeatedly by Ivan's strong thrusts. The American's eyes blurred from the pleasure that blended with the extreme pain he felt as his climax neared.

"_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." _Alfred moaned with every breath.

White, sticky liquid shot out of Alfred's pulsing organ as Ivan continued his bout, determined to pound the American until he rides out his orgasm. The dull liquid covered Alfred's exposed chest as he collapsed in a heap, his fast-paced breathing echoing hate.

When Ivan was satisfied, he pulled out again, admiring the sight before him. Then he furrowed his eyebrows,

"Something's missing…." The boss pondered the statement for a moment, the man in front of him grunted in annoyance. Finally remembering what he needed, "I have the perfect thing to use!"

Ivan got off the creaky bed and made his way to a steel safe, leaving the tired American on the bed. Quickly typing in the code, the safe opened revealing dozens of oddly shaped objects. All of them, Alfred knew, were not good.

The boss came back to the fatigued man ordering him to assume the position. Alfred mewled in protest, his orgasm paying its toll on the abused body.

"You're tired already, Alfred? I really should train you more so that you won't have such a wimpy endurance."

"Fuck…. Off…" Alfred groaned between breaths.

"Aaaah, but I have some new toys for us to play with!" The Russian pouted in mock helplessness. He tossed a small metallic ring in front of Alfred. "I expect you know how to use that by now."

"How could I when you went for two fucking weeks straight teaching me all your fuck toys." Alfred said as his breathing finally regulated. The blonde took the ring, knowing that if he didn't, worse things could be happening right now.

Alfred pushed his limp cock through the ring, using his cum as lubricant. Once he finished inserting the length of his penis, he faced the Russian,

"Good enough for you?"

"Yes, yes, that will work fine." The Russian smiled, "Now why don't you help me get hard? All these distractions made me lose interest."

Alfred frowned at the man as he bent down inspecting the Russian's soft organ. Yup, he _did _fucking lose interest.

"How the fuck'd that happen?" Alfred questioned the smiling Russian. Before Ivan had time to reply, he took the whole length into his mouth, slightly choking as his gag reflex protested.

Without further ado, the blonde began bobbing up and down, his hands playing with the man's balls. Occasionally he would release the organ from his mouth and pump it with his hands, but most of the time, it stayed in the wet cavern of his face.

"Nghnn…. You're really getting better at this Alfred." Ivan moaned as Alfred's saliva dripped from his cock which started to harden at the sight of the American. Alfred smirked as he felt the slight boner in his mouth grow.

After a few more pumps, Ivan had an erection. The satisfied Russian beamed at the blonde, as he pulled out the other thing which he carried. He brought it closer to sight and Alfred gasped in shock then backed away from the psycho.

"WHAT THE FUCK, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

Before the American had time to escape though, the big man tackled him onto the bed, his boner poking his pet in the back.

"Nuh-uh-uh Alfred." Ivan put his arm around the American's neck, effectively holding him down and preventing all movement from the struggling man.

"NO FUCK NO! CRAZY BASTARD! GET THE FUCK AWA-" Alfred bit his tongue as he felt a sharp needle enter his cock. His breathing increased as all the contents from the syringe were emptied out into his shaft. Ivan threw the emptied needle onto the floor. Alfred fell and curled up into a ball as Ivan stood up from his position. Ivan watched the man whimper in his "protective" shell.

It was a strange feeling. _What the fuck did that bastard put into my dick? _Alfred thought. _That…. Bas….tar…..d….. _Alfred's thoughts were disturbed as he felt an erection coming from his cock. _Oh my god. _Alfred stayed in that position for a long time. For some reason though, his mind went blank and all he wanted to do was fuck.

"Hmpf… I guess it doesn't work. I better call for a refun-" Ivan got the air forced out of him as Alfred tackled the big man to the floor. Angry at the blonde's actions he was about to say something when he felt Alfred grinding his erection against his back.

"I-ivan~" Alfred mewled as he humped his back greedily, making small circular motions. The American's hand found their way under the man's chest and messed with the Russian's large pink nubs. Ivan moaned as the blonde toyed with his chest then was taken aback when he felt a finger enter his hole.

Alfred wiggled his finger around the other's tight entrance, using saliva as lube. He continued riding his back, all the while whispering his name in lust. Soon, two more fingers were added in, stretching the hole nice and wide.

Once he was pleased with the other, Alfred coated his erection with saliva, spitting on it and making sure that it was well covered. As he did this, Ivan assumed the position, having never been in the receiving end before. He was, of course, curious about what his victims feel when he does it to them, so he waited eagerly for the American to finish.

"If some aphrodisiac gets you this horny, I should get it more often." said a very anxious Russian.

Alfred ignored the statement and proceeded to line his hard on with the Russian's puckered entrance, desperately wanting release. Without hesitance, the blonde pushed in, receiving a loud gasp from the Russian. His face in deep resolve, Alfred humped the man hard. His hand moved down from the man's nipples to his boner, caressing the stiff member. The other gripped his pelvic bone for support.

Ivan liked the way that his balls were tugged as the blonde found his prostrate. His vision blurred when it was hit again, a wonderful feeling spreading from the cluster of nerves up his body. Alfred felt the man buckle over in pleasure, sure that he found his sweet spot.

The American continued his attack on the sweet spot, the Russian's skin colliding with the metallic ring on the base of his erection.

Once the blonde found and memorized the location of his boss' prostrate, he ruthlessly thrusted into Ivan, each effort rewarding him with a delicious moan from the white-haired man, bringing him closer to climax.

Ivan started to rock back and forth, wanting his prostrate to be hit even harder. Both men worked together, Alfred with his forward thrusts and Ivan with his reverse thrusts. Sweat enveloped the hot men.

Ivan tightened further when he hit climax, the hot liquid wetting both of the men. Alfred soon followed, delayed by the ring which gripped his fading boner, cumming into the Russian's entrance. The American crashed onto Ivan, happily letting sleep take over him as his tired body slumped on the sweaty back of his boss.

Ivan smiled, "Alfred."

"Hm?" The effects of the drug seemed to be wearing off now, but it had the side effect of casualness towards the sadist.

"We're going to kidnap your brother tomorrow."

Ivan waited for a response. When he received none, he looked back at the person behind him. Alfred slept soundly on the Russian's back, so tired that he collapsed right on the spot. Ivan gently took the American off his back and carried him bridal style to the separate bed inside the large room. Ivan gathered his clothes and placed them beside the sleeping man, using the torn shirt to wipe off the cum that stuck to his body and to remove the metal ring around the man's shaft. He admired the angel-like blonde as he slept.

* * *

**_Important note: Next week is finals week and also the mark for 2 weeks before summer vacation. I might not be able to update as quickly next week. But next chappy's gonna be an awesome one, promise!_**

**_Last note: Shroomz is workin on several one-shots for this week and next week, do you guys have any ideas/pairs for her to write? Anyways, look forward to our next chappies!_**


	4. Chapter 4

"Mr. Kirkland?"

"I'm busy, make it quick," said an annoyed Brit who held a phone with his shoulder and paper in both hands. The man sat in a large, leather, reclining swivel chair, surrounded by stacks of paper that seemed to grow every day on the ebony desk.

"You have a call, sir" said the maid, who craned her neck to see the blonde behind the papers.

"Is it him again?" Arthur grimaced, remembering the French bastard, "I thought I told you not to answer any of his calls."

"No, sir. It's from your son," the maid said, smiling at the look of confusion on the master's face.

"Who?" the Brit asked, much too involved in his business to remember.

"Mathew, sir." The maid replied.

"Oh," the blonde paused to talk to his client, "I'll be done in a minute. Tell Mathew to hold for a while."

~.+o+.~

"Hello?"

"Dad!" The Canadian's cheery voice blasted into his cellphone, smiling as he heard the Brit's accent. "It's Mathew!"

"Hi Mathew," Arthur smiled as he heard his son. _Always so happy and light-hearted, _the Brit thought, _Just like Alf- _The busy man shook his head, banishing the thought. "How's school?" he asked instead.

"It's great! I got honors again!"

"Good for you. You make me so proud, Mathew." Arthur beamed into his work phone, expecting nothing less than the best from his son. "Did anything happen lately?"

"Nothing much, I just thought that since break started today, I could visit you Saturday."

"I have a meeting with some sponsors on Saturday; I won't be able to fetch you."

"It's okay, Dad! I can travel by myself."

"Are you sure? All the way from Massachusetts?" asked the Brit in worried tones.

"I'm already 19, Dad. I think I can get on a plane and travel for half an hour on a private jet by myself." Mathew said, trying to assure his protective father that he would be alright.

"Uhm…" the voice on the other end paused for a minute.

"…. Dad?" the Canadian inquired, "You still there?" After a few more moments of waiting, the Brit replied in a fearful voice,

"Okay. I'll arrange a valet to pick you up at the airport."

"Thanks, Dad!"

"Yes…"

"Dad?" asked the merry blonde.

"Hm?"

"I love you, Dad." And with that, the bespectacled man hung up. He rolled around onto his stomach, content of himself as he placed his glasses onto the nearby table. His wavy blonde hair spread out onto the school's blue sheet covers; his one curly strand, bouncing in front of him as he leaned his head on his hands. He was going back to Canada!

* * *

_**A/N: Mwahahahahahahaha! :) short chappy. I just thought that this was a good place to end it! don't leave hate comments please? - kicked Canada expression - O^O**_

_**so to appease to the angry masses, heres a little sumthin to keep ya busy, but you'll have to go back to my profile to see it. ^^ **_

**_The next chappy's on it way to completion (i just started on it) and hopefully I'll be able to publish it on Sunday. Let's see what happens._**


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: HAPPY BIRTRHDAY ALFRED! I tried to make you kickass in this chapter! XD **_

_**so yeah, late upload because I was busy and Shroomz had yet to read it. So fortunately, she just finished reading it and here it is ready for you guys!**_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own any establishments, products or anything except the idea implied or mentioned in this chapter because there is quite a few stuff here. _**

**_^^ enjoy!_**

* * *

Alfred jerked as he woke from his sleep, his mind slowly remembering the events of the previous night. Or hour. Whatever time it was, it was still dark out.

_Okay, so we had the usual fuck fest, _the American thought, feeling the soreness as he tried to shift positions. _Then… _The blonde tried to recall but to no avail. _Then….. _Alfred's thoughts were interrupted as he felt the other side of the bed move under him, revealing white hair as a man turned in his sleep. _The psycho decided to sleep naked with me again. _The American scowled; sleep pulling his eyelids close. _Bastard…. _

~.+o+.~

The blonde grudgingly opened his eyes to the bright light that seeped in from the cracks of the boarded windows. The room was still fairly dark, but the small digital clock beside the bed read "9:00 am."

_Oh crap, the boss is gonna kill me if I don't get my ass up._ Speaking of the boss, where the hell is he? Alfred felt around the other side of the bed and felt nothing.

He decided to get up and when he did, he saw a stack of clothes on the bedside table. Beside the clothes were his glasses and the stuff which were in his pockets but fell off during the night's festivities. Alfred shrugged his shoulders."I.D., driver's license, money." Al counted out loud, making sure that everything was there. And, of course, his gun was nowhere to be found. He quickly put on his glasses and made for the door.

~.+o+.~

"Oh, I'm so excited!" chirped a happy blonde as he sat down on a bench beside his bags waiting for his flight to be ready. The man sat eagerly, watching the men prepare his impressive jet. Not even the cold weather dampened his spirits. His smile stretched out even more when the pilot approached him.

"It's ready now, Matt!" the white haired pilot smiled, giving the Canadian a thumbs up, "As awesome as it will ever get in your lifetime!"

"Thanks so much, Gil! You're awesome!" replied the merry blonde who got up from the bench, disturbing a nice pile of snow in the process.

"You know it! Now get on before I drive this baby into the sky without you," smirked the albino.

"Happily!" The Canadian gathered all his belongings and brought them to the plane. As Mathew dragged all his stuff to the plane, he pushed the snow to the side leaving a path. The pilot eyed one specific item.

"You still have that bear, Matt?"

"Kimijurou is important to me, Gilbert!" the Canadian pouted.

The pilot shrugged, "I thought his name was 'Kumajirou', but whatev'. Flight's gonna take two hours, better strap in and get ready."

"I thought it only takes half an hour to travel by jet," Mathew asked the man, confuzzled by the idea.

"Yeah, but its snowin' up there in Canada and we're expectin' some turbulence. We might even need to stop by Toronto because of the snow."

"Oh. I guess I didn't put the weather into consideration, huh. I mean, it _is _winter break." The blonde looked downcast as he kicked some snow on the ground.

Gilbert reacted quickly to the abrupt change of mood, "Dun' worry, my favorite Canadian friend! When I'm behind the wheels of this plane, not even Zeus can stop me!" The man gave him another thumbs up and proceeded to put on his pilot helmet.

"Okie dokie, Gilbert." The blonde said, pulling out of his depression.

~.+o+.~

"Get ready to go out Alfred," Vash told the American as he made his way down to the kitchen to grab breakfast.

"What the hell, I haven't eaten anything yet," complained the blonde, intent on continuing his journey to the treasure trove of food.

"We can stop by that fast food place you like and get a burger to go. Now, hurry! The boss is getting pissed."

"Okay, I'll go with that," the hungry man smiled at the thought of being surrounded by hamburgers, what a heavenly sight! "What's the mission objective?"

The Swiss sighed, "Didn't you listen to the briefing yesterday?" after receiving a blank look from the American, he sighed again. "We're going to kidnap some kid from a millionaire's family and his flight lands in 2 hours!"

"If we've got 2 hours, then why the fuck should I hurry?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, getting annoyed at what the man just said.

"Because we have to go all the way to Toronto!" The short man practically screamed at Alfred. Annoyed, he let himself be pulled by the weapons master, his many guns constantly poking him in the stomach. But he was used to the treatment. It was a lot better than during his gun training.

"Vash, lemme borrow a gun, would ya?" Alfred asked the Swiss after a while. "The boss took mine."

"Yeah, sure. Choose your weapons when we get to the van." Vash dragged the American to the parking lot of the abandoned building, bringing him into the view of the rest of the group.

"Looks like Cinderella's finally awake," a smirking Ramon said as he leaned against the back of a black van. Alfred glared at the complacent man who smoked a stick of cigarette.

"At least I don't _sleep_ smoking, asshole," Alfred countered, smirking at the furious Cuban. The man was about to say something when a voice spoke up from behind the American.

"Now, now. No need for violence, da?" The boss came out of the building followed by his sister. Natalia looked at everyone but refused to talk; instead she hid behind the tall frame of what is known as Ivan. As usual, Eduard stayed behind, hacking data bases for the next mission.

Everyone straightened up when they heard the boss' voice. Then the boss ushered everyone into the van, "Hurry, hurry. We'll miss our target. Sort out the weapons in the van," He told everyone.

They usually did the weapon sorting before the road trip for safety reasons, but since they're tight on time, it couldn't be helped.

Everyone filed into the back of the van. Lovino shut the doors and turned around to face the group. Ludwig and Vash opened up the cache under the chairs and exposed the weapons as the engine of the van began to buzz. Hand guns, rifles, grenades, knives, smoke bombs, pistols, swords, revolvers; the whole mother load of firearms in the building. But everyone knew that this was only a small portion of the Swiss' collection.

"I shotty double handguns." Alfred said as he quickly skimmed the variety of weapons.

The German handed the burger lover two identical loaded pistols and extra magazines. Alfred caught it expertly, and marveled its little details. But frowned and held back the magazines, "I don't need them, Ludwig." Ludwig rolled his eyes and took back the magazines.

"I get the sword," Yao said immediately after Alfred. Something about the sword always brought to mind his little brother whose specialty was of the blade. Once everyone received their weapons, they sat down on the brown leather seats of the black van.

There were two rows. To the left sat Alfred in the seat right behind the driver's, Ludwig who sat in the middle and Vash who sat in the seat right behind the doors. Across from them sat Yao in front of Vash, Ramon across from Ludwig and Lovino in front of Alfred.

They we're already on the road when Alfred tapped the glass separating the driver from the back of the van. An angry Natalia slid open the sheet. "What do you want?"

"Ivan, y'think we can stop by that fast food place to grab breakfast?" the American inquired, looking at the Russian as he drove and ignoring the scowling face of his sister. To make it worse, his stomach proclaimed its emptiness as he leaned over to talk to the Russian.

"I suppose so, but we're only getting take out," Ivan informed the blonde, "Natalia, put down that dagger." The Belarusian grudgingly complied, trying to impress her future husband.

"Yeah, sure. I'll make it quick."

~.+o+.~

"Are we there yet, Gilbert?" Mathew asked the pilot through his ear piece.

Gilbert sighed, "I thought I just told you that we'll be there in half an hour. We've got to land by Toronto Pearson, okay?"

"M'kay.." the Canadian frowned into his mug of steaming maple tea. He looked out into his window and frowned even deeper when he saw nothing but white as they entered the blizzard. They were so close to Ottawa, but the blizzard just made it longer until he can see his father again. He snuggled Kimujurou close and sighed again. _Dad. .._

~.+o+.~

"Double cheeseburger, large French fries and Dr. Pepper to go," The American said through the speakers of the drive-thru. "Supersize."

Ivan stared through the tinted windows of Alfred's favorite restaurant, amused by the little children playing in the small play ground in the corner of the establishment as he drove to the pick-up area. Everyone in the back sighed as they stopped in front of the drive thru window knowing only too well what Alfred had just ordered.

"Here's your order, sir," the employee handed the bag to a smiling Ivan. She stared suspiciously at the black van and shivered when she met the gaze of the white haired driver. "That w-would be 5.99, s-sir." Ivan handed the girl the money and took the bag from her. She quickly closed the window after receiving the money and giving him the change.

The girl's traumatic face could be seen in the rear view mirrors of the car and Ivan frowned, "I thought I was smiling?" he sighed, giving up. When he exited the drive thru, he threw the bag to an eager Alfred in the back. Alfred caught it happily and opened it, a heavenly scent rising from the burger. He took a large bite out of it and stuffed a couple of French fries in as well.

"Thwankz Ivchan (thanks Ivan)!" Alfred said with food still in his mouth. Ivan just smiled and focused on the road.

"Can't you eat a little slower?" an annoyed German told the blonde as he glomped away at his burger.

"It ain't my fault I fucking haven't had breakfast yet!" Alfred said as he swallowed and took as sip from his cup.

~.+o+.~

Gilbert scrunched up his eyebrows in concentration as he maneuvered the sleek jet through the gushing winds. It has already been an hour and the snow got into the tracking mechanism of the plane, messing up his coordinates. _Dun worry, Gil! You're still awesome! Just look for that bright yellow light and request a landing! _The frustrated albino strained his ears to listen for any reception besides the annoying fuzzy sound coming from his headset.

"Hey, Matt, you okay back there?" Gilbert waited a few moments and started to panic but it quickly died down as he heard soft snores come from his earphones. "Aaaw that little Canadian got so worried he fell asleep! He must've been waiting for this for a while, huh?" Just then, a dull yellow light caught his eye. "There it is! I'm getting you back home, Matt!"

The plane was navigated through the rough winds cleverly by the albino and soon, they were on the concrete grounds of Toronto Pearson International Airport. The albino took off his black headset and made his way to the Canadian, "Matt," he smiled eagerly as he ran to the blonde's compartment, "Matt!"

The blonde woke when he heard the giddy pilot yell his name, "wh-what?" he said, wiping tears from his sleepy eyes and snuggling closer to Kimajirou.

"We've landed! The Awesome Gilbert has landed us in the middle of a blizzard!" he said as he hugged the sleepy blonde and laughed into his hair.

"W-w-we have!" The Canadian's eyes widened in surprise and began hugging back, "You're awesome, Gil! You're so awesome!"

"You better believe it!" Gilbert broke the hug and pulled the Canadian to his feet, "Come on, Matt, let's get out of this blizzard." The albino told him, "Oh and don't forget to bring your stuff with you, they'll freeze in the cargo."

~.+o+.~

The tired American stared idly out of the tinted black windows of the van onto the vast open highway littered with white. When they had passed the border to Canada, Ivan explained to the group that there was a blizzard and that this was their golden opportunity for the kidnapping. He also told Alfred to guard the van; in case some guards find it _too _suspicious. Alfred rolled his eyes, "Yeah sure, whatever. I ain't going in that blizzard any day." He sighed; it was already half past 10. _Ugh…. Half an hour more of this boring shit…_

~.+o+.~

"So basically I have to stay here until the blizzard blows over?" Mathew asked Gilbert as he sat down with the many other flight passengers who were stranded in the airport.

"Yeah, they say in an hour or so the blizzard will stop." Gilbert told the blonde as he sat beside him. Mathew hugged his bear closer, the glossy surface of his violet eyes beginning to ripple.

"How long will it take, Gil?" asked the Canadian, a tear making its way down his cherry red cheeks.

"About 2 hours at the most," he replied, "Now don't cry, you're making me look unawesome! Cheer up! I'll get you home no matter what!" he said trying to lighten up the mood. "Here I'll go get you a Starbucks to help warm you up a little. What do you want?"

"Caramel Macchiato, extra caramel, grande," the blonde smiled at the albino's efforts.

~.+o+.~

Ivan and the group reached Toronto Pearson in half an hour. They stopped right outside the gates of the grand airport, driving over the salt that the street cleaners had already laid out to melt the snow. Before they started on their mission though, Ivan ordered everyone to get out, to muddle up the snow so it would throw the police off if they ever decided to follow the group. Luckily, even after these measures, there was a light flurry left after the blizzard which could help mask the tire tracks left by the van during their getaway. Once they were done, the boss motioned everyone to huddle in a circle.

"We are going in as three groups," Ivan told the men and his sister, "We will split up and trap the target," he spread out a map of the airport on the ground and pointed to a spot on the airport's many drive ways, "We'll meet up here and acquire the target. We have 15 minutes.

"The grouping is as follows: Ramon and Lovino, Vash and Yao, and Ludwig and I are going in as the last group." The German nodded when he heard the roll call of names.

Natalia raised her head from the map, "But brother….. What do I do?"

Ivan chuckled his child like laugh, "I almost forgot, da? You will be staying in the van with Alfred."

"What?" Natalia's eyes widened in disbelief, "Me with HIM?" to emphasize her point, she jammed her finger at the blonde's direction, "I am going to be by your side whether you like it or not!" she pouted.

"Please, Natalia. I can only trust you for this job," Ivan pleaded; a little scared of the small woman, "Only you." With that, the stubborn features of the Belarusian softened and retracted to a small pout.

"… Okay, Brother," she sighed, "But only this once. For you."

Ivan smiled, happy that her _over_protective sister was off his case. He told the group a few more details, gave each pair a handheld transceiver and a flashlight then gave the signal to spread out.

Natalia watched as the silhouette of her brother vanish into the darkness and walked back to the black van, her heels making a clicking sound reverberate throughout the empty road. She opened the front door of the van and hissed at the blonde before slamming it closed.

Alfred admired the small white specks falling down for a while, remembering the old days when he would sneak out at night to play in the snow; making snow hamburgers and building snow men. He smiled as he remembered how his father would wake up in the morning finding a small child curled up on his front door and would yell and lecture him about winter, afterwards grounding him. And, most of all, he remembered his little brother who would visit him in his room whenever he got grounded and keep him company. But it was usually the opposite. It would usually be him in his little brother's room because he was so sickly. Alfred doubts he even remembers him. The last time he saw him, he was in the hospital with so many sounds and so many wires and tubes…. He sighed.

Emotions swirled in the American; mixed ones, ones that said he should forgive and forget, and others that said he needed revenge. Looking around the peaceful night one last time, Alfred slowly made his way to the van; he opened up the back door and entered the dark space, closing the door from the inside. He made himself comfortable and lied down on the seats, raiding his take out bag one more time in hopes of finding something to ease his growing hunger. Two pistols jutted from their holsters by his hips. _Boring shit….._

~.+o+.~

Mathew happily sipped his coffee as Gilbert came back from his talk with the airport manager. "What'd they say?"

"They said we could depart at 11:15!" Gil beamed, "We're leaving in 15 minutes."

"R-really? We are?" Mathew placed his coffee down and stood up to hug the albino, "I better get all my stuff ready, eh?"

"Yeah, I think you should. In the mean while, I'll be gone to take care of some business." When he received a questioning look from the blonde, he pointed to his pants, "Sorry, gotta use the bathroom."

Mathew smiled, "Sure, don't take long now." Gilbert left the blonde to gather up all his belongings. He turned a corner to the boy's, ahem, _men's _bathroom.

Once he found it, he went in and locked himself in a cubicle. In the small space, he pulled a gun out of his jacket's inside pocket. He checked it, making sure the magazine was fully loaded and the gun was ready for immediate use. Gilbert frowned; he really wished he wouldn't have to use it today and put it away again.

After a few minutes, he made his way back to the Canadian, "You ready yet, Matt?"

"Just about… And here! All done!" the blonde told Gilbert as he gathered all his stuff and stood up from his seat.

"Awesome! Let's get you home then!" Gilbert gave him one of his encouraging thumbs ups and led the way to the jet.

~.+o+.~

"Spot check." Ivan breathed into his handheld while staring out into the entrance of the airport. The cloudy sky made it perfect for a kidnapping because it provided little to no light. To make it better, the lights from the airport were all blocked by thick ice and snow.

"In position." two different voices echoed out of the transceiver.

"Prove location." Ludwig pulled out a black metallic flashlight from his pocket and handed it to the boss. Ivan then held it above his head and clicked it on and off two times. Soon, two other lights flashed twice in the darkness.

"Perfect," His message buzzed into the other's transceivers. Then, the doors opened and a group of men came out, "Lock on target: 3…. 2…. 1….. GO!"

~.+o+.~

Alfred was happy he found that last fry in there and now he was getting really sleepy; the night still taking a big toll on his body. He found it quite easy to just lie there and dream even though they were going to commit a heinous crime. But, what the hell, it was just so warm in the van and he was just so tired and… The blonde's thoughts drifted into a sleepy end as he closed his eyes and began to snore lightly in the van.

~.+o+.~

"Mr. Weillschimdt, Mr. Kirkland?" a black suited man approached the pair as they made their way to the entrance. He had four other men behind him as still as statues but obviously trained to do some damage.

"Hm?" The Canadian turned around as he heard his name being called. Gilbert, who was in front of him did the same but quickly stepped between the tall man and Mathew.

"We're squadron 68 of the police force. We were hired by Arthur Kirkland to be Mathew Kirkland's bodyguards." The man said, even before Gilbert had time to speak.

"But why would I need bodyguards, mister-?"

"For now, please call me 'Mr. O'."

"All right then, Mr. O, why would I need body guards?" Mathew said as he eyed the men behind him. All of them were blonde, well somewhat blonde, and there was even a guy as tall as he was but he wore red underneath all the black spy stuff; the guy even wielded a giant, old fashioned battle axe. Others had a cross around their necks and another wore some sort of beret. _Odd people, eh? _Mathew asked himself in his mind as he drew closer to Gilbert's reassuring back.

"Arthur Kirkland requests that we accompany you back to Ottawa, Mr. Weillschimdt," he adjusted his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Here is the paper work and identification notes." The tall man handed Gilbert some paper and he looked over them. "There seems to be a kidnapping problem sweeping through Canada during this time and your father," he said to Mathew as the albino read the materials the bespectacled man handed him, "Hired us, a specialized unit of the police, to escort you to his estate."

After a minute or two, Gilbert looked up from his reading, "Okay, welcome aboard jet Awesome, squadron 68." Gilbert assumed his position in front of Mathew and the men surrounded him like moths to a flame. They followed him out the sliding glass doors of the airport to his jet. Little did they know that three armed units lurked, under the cover of darkness, intent on taking their target using _any _measures possible.

* * *

_**A/N: long chappy, WOOOOOOOOOOOT! ^^ **_

**_all questions, comments and (hopefully constructive) critiques welcome!_**

**_If you got confused with any timing, places or whatever in the plot, don't hesitate to ask me! _**

**_Anyways, cya guys in the next chappy! X3_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: hey y'all! sorry for the long wait, but here it is! I hope i don't disappoint anyone! XD**_

**_WARNING: this is gonna be the most violent chappy there is, so I wanted to just get it over with! :D I swear I'm not a sadist!_**

* * *

Mathew strolled out of the grand building feeling imprisoned by the group of black-wearing police officers. He sighed to himself, his breath forming a white fog that blocked his view for a moment.

'Mr. O' walked in the front with Gilbert and they both strode in silence. The axe bearing guy marched off ahead of the group, holding his nose up high and talking boisterously to himself how he was going to warn the group if anything were to happen. One of the men that walked beside Mathew stared off the other direction, mumbling something under his breath like he was talking to some unseen creatures. The other man that walked to his left wore a white beret and was trying to establish a conversation with the Canadian, doing his best to lighten up the serious atmosphere. The last of them, a white haired man, followed quietly from behind.

"That is Denmark," the short man told Mathew as he pointed to the guy wearing red and black, "Sweden," he brought his finger to the tall bespectacled man walking with Gilbert, "Norway," he motioned to his right, "Iceland," he turned and presented the white haired man, "And finally, I'm Finland."

Mathew looked over at the people with confusion, "I thought his name was 'Mr. O'?"

"Oh," he chuckled, "These are our code names for this mission," 'Finland' said, "We get different ones every mission. But Sweden likes to be called that."

"Do you guys know each other's real names?" Mathew asked, intrigued by the idea of code names. Maybe, if he had one, it would be something nice and sneaky. Like Canada. Or Maple! He smiled inwardly at the thought. _Maple would be a wonderful code name. _

"Well," 'Finland shrugged, "To tell you the truth, all of us were orphans," he looked at the strong back of the tall man walking in front of him as if in remembrance, "Only Sweden and I had the parents that cared enough to give us names."

"I'm sorry I asked," Mathew said, suddenly feeling guilty of what painful memory he brought back to the cheery blonde.

"No, no it's fine. Really. It's been too long for this story. It was by some miracle that all of us met in the same orphanage. It's been really lively ever since."

"That's ver-" a white flash caught his attention and a moment later he heard the gruff voice of 'Denmark'. "Red Alert!" was all Mathew could decipher right before a small explosion erupted where the man stood and fire enveloped his tall frame.

"One down," a voice buzzed from somewhere.

The group quickly got into position, forming a tighter defense around Mathew who fell to his knees from shock. "Wh-wh-what? Wh-why?" the Canadian said out loud as tears welled in his eyes and he hugged his bear for comfort.

Norway frowned deeply as he looked at the smoldering remains of Denmark's huge battle axe. Gun shots rang out from the darkness and the silhouettes of six men appeared in front of the small fire. They were of varying heights and all held uniquely shaped weapons; one of them a sword, another a rifle. "Go!" the man in the middle motioned to the rest of the group and after the gesture, the five men sprinted towards the target.

~.+o+.~

Alfred was brought out of his sleep by a loud tap on the glass by Natalia. He scrunched up his eyebrows, angry that he was disturbed from his trip to Hamburger Street. "What the fuck do y-" he was silenced when the woman held up a knife at his direction. He looked at the knife and rolled his eyes. The knife then slowly pointed away and his eyes trained it until he faced right where he could hear soft voices and footsteps.

_Dammit, _"How many?" the blonde said as he got up carefully and brought his hands to his two pistols. The hand brandishing the knife lowered and came back up with a 'v' sign. "2? That's it?" Alfred asked; the sounds coming from outside definitely didn't sound like two people. The 'v' sign then turned into a circle. "20?" _Well that fucking made my day._ The American sighed and quickly thought up a plan.

~.+o+.~

Ivan watched with amusement as everyone dashed to the cluster of people defending their target and small fights broke out everywhere. He stood back and observed them; each battle revealing the abilities and skills of each individual. As he watched the skirmishes begin, the Russian took out his transceiver, very much enjoying the warmness of the fire and the burning body that fueled it.

"Status check," he said coldly into the speaker despite his cheery appearance.

"Defending base," the voice of the American buzzed from Ivan's phone, "Permission to annihilate?"

"Granted," The white haired man smiled into the transceiver. Oh, how he'd like to see what kind of beautiful art his pet would create; just the thought gave him goose bumps. He switched the phone off as he looked up at the favorable dark sky. Black. Cold. Alone. _How perfect._

~.+o+.~

Everyone kind of just picked their own battles. Personal lives, grudges, differences; whatever the reason though, Lovino ended up with the tall guy.

"Dammit," The hot blooded Italian cursed under his breath. Why did it look like he was fighting the boss? For a moment, both men stood in silence, both glared into the other's eyes, and both clutched their revolvers tightly. Sweden slowly reached into his black coat pocket, not looking away from the brown eyes that the other possessed and Lovino got into position, readying himself for immediate defense. What he didn't expect though, was that the intimidating man would threaten him with a can.

"You call that a weapon?" Lovino scoffed at the man, "That's one nice weapon you got there!" the small Italian smiled at his assured victory. The undeterred officer smirked and threw the small can at the Italian's feet. A loud clunk was muffled by the left over snow it landed upon. Sweden drew his gun and cocked it towards the shiny metal. Lovino's reflexes made him crouch into position as he saw the gun point towards his feet; ignorant of the fact that it was pointed at the can. In one swift motion, Sweden's finger pulled the trigger successfully bursting the can open.

Lovino closed his eyes tightly when the can blew up in front of him and covered his body with something. And the hell he wanted to know what it was. When he opened his eyes the next second later, he saw the sneering face of the tall man as he found out that the can held fish inside. But why, WHY THE HELL DOES IT SMELL SO BAD? The Italian fell to his knees as the gas from the can got into his eyes and made them water. With his vision blurry, Lovino squinted one eye and brought his revolver to point at the other. The other did likewise and the men faced off, each sporting a cocked gun.

One shot from the weakened Italian was all it took for the tall man to drop down in a pool of his own blood. And that was all it took for the Italian to fall unconscious on the cold tarmac; drenched in the awful Surströmming, falling down faster than the bullet that passed his head.

~.+o+.~

"Permission granted."

"Well you heard him," Alfred said as he waited quietly for the voices outside to settle. His stomach, however, argued with the serious atmosphere and Natalia clenched her fist, holding back on bashing the American's head to the window. "Well you gotta expect that, I haven't eaten for-" Alfred began to reason with the murderous Belarusian when he heard a rough voice outside address the van.

"This is airport police. We would like to inspect your van."

"Shit," Alfred held back his earlier remark and felt the heavy atmosphere. He turned serious, "Countdown." He said to Natalia.

~.+o+.~

Finland watched painfully as the tall frame of Sweden hit the cold ground. He bit his lip; he was taught that revenge was not an answer but now, just _now _it would feel so good.

Vash quickly glanced at Lovino's victory, "Two down." he said into his phone.

The officer scowled when he returned to face the Swiss and tightened his grip on the pistol he held in his right hand. Vash knew it was going to start so he held his rifle and readied it for faster use. It may not be good for close range duels but that can't be helped.

Vash started running from the man and the other was quick to follow suit. It became a running battle and it was one that Vash put to his advantage. He stopped running when he was a distance away from the other and turned to shoot his beloved rifle at the small man. Finland, however, anticipated the assault and dashed to the side, effectively getting behind the Swiss.

Once he was behind Vash, he placed the gun to his head, liking the way he was in control. Here he had a member of the group that killed his childhood friend; it was only logical to repay the favor that they blessed him with.

"Drop the rifle." Finland ordered the blonde. Vash complied with the command and dropped the heavy weapon onto the small traces of snow that remained after the cleaning. "Put your hands on the ground." Vash smirked behind his golden locks, _so naïve, _he thought.

"You know," Vash said casually to the other when his hands touched the asphalt, "People often believe that they are in control," he chuckled, "When in truth, they are not."

When Finland heard this he twitched at the humiliation and shot the gun without a second thought. Vash fell limp on the ground and the other heaved heavy breaths. The officer tilted his head in confusion. There was something wrong here. Surely, a head shot would…

Before he could finish his thoughts though, the "dead" Swiss somersaulted forward, getting a shiny black gun from his boots. By the time the blonde had finished his roll, the other dropped down dead where he stood. Vash slowly stood up and walked over to retrieve his rifle, wincing as he moved his left arm. It seems that even his plan had its flaws.

"Dammit, he's good." For there, on his left shoulder, was a trail of blood where a bullet deeply grazed the Swiss skin.

~.+o+.~

"Countdown."

Natalia smiled at the American's words. This was a game; her favorite, in fact.

_Whoever gets the most kills wins_.

It was simple, yet exciting. "Countdown," she replied to the game call, remembering the time the competitiveness between the two evolved into the greatest game she had ever played. But that's not true; Russian roulette will always hold a special place in her heart. And that was a lot coming from the woman.

"3," Alfred started.

"2," Natalia answered.

"1," both said together as they kicked open the doors, surprising the police that surrounded the vehicle.

The men clad in blue and silver were startled when the van exploded with activity. Cold sweat ran down their backs as two figures exited the suspicious black van. What was more surprising was that both of the figures held weapons.

~.+o+.~

Mathew hugged his knees tight as he drowned in the chaos. There were scary sounds and he felt alone. _Why? _Was the only thought that passed through the head of the weak-spirited Canadian as he blocked the frightening images of battle and blood that invaded his mind. A small wind brushed his shivering frame from the back and soon after a pained voice melded with the sounds of clashing metal and gun shots.

~.+o+.~

An angry Norway ran towards the Cuban with his gun loaded, cocked and pointed.

"Someone's feisty," Ramon teased when he saw the blonde approach him. He smirked as he readied his shot gun and placed his hand on the mini-frags that were strapped to his belt. Norway slowed down when he was in range of the offender.

"He was mine," the blonde said with a monotone voice between his heavy breathing, "He was _my_ target."

"Oh well," Ramon said, startled by the blonde's reaction, _so the obnoxious axe wielding guy was important to him, _he thought, "We can't do anything about that can we?"

"You will pay." Norway threatened, his words laced with poison. Soon another gun was pulled out of a holster by the man's side and Ramon was confronted with a scene that looked very much like a face off duel with the American asshole. He smirked at the development, _I guess I get to kill that prick without actually killing him, _he sighed. It was better than nothing. It's not like he can actually kill the boss' fave.

There was no need for a countdown; it wasn't a friendly duel after all. It's not the kind of event where the rules were laid out in front of you and a specific guideline was followed. No. This was life or death and Norway darted head first to start the fray.

Ramon reacted swiftly to the other's invitation. He released several bullets from his shot gun but they all missed the speedy blonde as he traversed the moderate space between them.

Norway extended his hands and shot while he sprinted to the Cuban, each one getting closer and closer to their intention. He was surprised as the other's hands moved to the small golf ball-like objects hanging from his belt. It took a moment longer until he fully understood that those were actually grenades.

A millisecond. That was all it took. A millisecond to pull the pin on that mini-frag. A millisecond to shoot that bullet. A millisecond for both bodies to burn in the explosion. Ramon yelled as the bullet hit his arm and flames ate his skin. Norway jumped head first into the blast, his momentum too great for any hopes of stopping. The blonde's face met the grenade as it sounded its final tick.

~.+o+.~

Alfred eyed each policeman; observed their surprised expressions, their shaking hands, and their battle readiness. The thought of each of these men never returning home to their families didn't even cross the mind of the American as he skimmed over the heads. His heart wouldn't even let him _think _about what kind of pain their loved ones were going to experience when they find out that their beloved was used as a mere game piece; because as far as he knew, he had no family. He was far too broken.

Among the twenty different people, there was one that stood out. It was a woman. She had long brown hair that housed an exotic orange flower. Her uniform was green instead of the blue uniforms that the other's dressed in and she wore a fierce expression. _Probably the highest rank out of everyone here, _Alfred thought. What was more, she held… A frying pan? The confusion in Alfred's eyes must have been obvious as the brunette smirked at his direction. He was about to say something when Natalia sped past him and started her melee attack on the guards.

_Dammit, she already got two of 'em, better pick up the pace,_ Alfred mentally cursed at himself for getting distracted. Alfred refocused himself, determined to win this little game of theirs. After all, no one could beat the master.

~.+o+.~

"Norway!" Iceland cried into the air as he watched his brother disappear in the flames. He started to run off to the burning corpse when he felt a sharp pain on his shoulder.

"You're opponent is me." Yao said, annoyed that he was getting ignored; although he did feel bad that they were a member short now. Yao slid his sword down the albino's skin, leaving a mildly deep cut on the other.

Iceland didn't let the man finish his cut. He unsheathed his dagger and pursued to stab the other in the stomach when the Chinese jumped back from his would be assault.

Yao was surprised that the other handled a dagger. Though small, a dagger used by the right person could be a deadly weapon. What more, the other seemed to know a lot about pressure points. Just then, during that flurry of motions, he tried to hit his solar plexus using his non-dagger hand. As he stood there contemplating the events, he spent the time analyzing his opponent.

The albino did the same of the black haired man. Whatever it was about him, it felt like they had something in common. Like they had the same kind of hurt; whatever this hurt was. He sighed and planned his next wave of attacks.

A cold wind blew over the pair as darkness ate everything. Yao crouched down low and hid in the shadows. It was obvious that he had the advantage. He had the experience, the drive, the skills. There was moment of complete silence and calm right before he took the moment and rushed the white haired man.

Iceland reacted quickly to the ambush. He let himself fall backwards just enough to dodge the sword that the other thrusted. _This is it_. This was the best opportunity he had against the obviously experienced man. He tried, once more, an attempt at a jab at his solar plexus.

Unfortunately, for the albino, the blow was expected and expertly dodged, surprising him. That moment of hesitation was used to Yao's advantage as he brought his sword down, rendering his opponent incapable of action.

It took but one final push of his sword to completely dismember the other's leg and for him to die of blood loss.

~.+o+.~

"4!"

"6!"

"That's not fair!" complained the American, "You got a head start!" He side stepped as one of the policemen ran towards him in hopes of disarming him. The back of the blonde's head was the last thing he saw before he lied down to sleep forever.

"Who exactly was it that took the time to look at everyone's faces?" Natalia countered. She was winning and that was what's important. _Finally I can get back at him! _It had always been a rule that the loser of the game would do one thing that the winner wants them to do. The last time she lost, she had to keep away from Ivan for 24 hours. _I am going to win and he will not see for a week! _"7!" Alfred said triumphantly as he simultaneously felled three men. _I have to work harder for it happen._

~.+o+.~

Ludwig stared into the eyes of his older brother. The other did the same as if they were conversing in some unsaid language. Like so much was exchanged just from a simple look.

"Why?" Gilbert asked, "Why, Ludwig?" he was confused. He always wished see his little brother; to see eye to eye. It's been four long years since the death of his lover and his disappearance. He only hoped that the vast stretch of time he spent away healed his broken heart. He understood the meaning of lost love and he wanted to help his brother out of his depression. But not like this. He didn't want to meet like this. "Why?"

Ludwig gaped in shock, perhaps it was his brother that he was fixated in or the fact that he was ordered to kill him. The German trembled, "G-G-Gil."

Suddenly his transceiver buzzed, ruining the atmosphere between the siblings, "Do your job." Ivan said in a child-like demeanor before laughing his creepy laugh. The blonde pondered the message. It reminded him that he had a job to do, no matter how much he didn't want to do it. He took out his gun and threw it to the side, sighing in disappointment. "I don't want to do this Gil. But a job is a job."

Gilbert watched as Ludwig threw away the gun and approached him. He, too, threw his gun away, seeing as his brother wanted to talk with fists.

The two men walked to each other and once they were close enough, they began exchanging blows. Gilbert was physically weaker than his counterpart, he knew that. But it was not going to stop him from talking to his brother. "Ludwig! Snap out of it! Why are you doing this!"

"Revenge" Was what Gilbert heard before getting punched in the face by his stronger half; for the brothers were, together, a whole. He continued getting battered by the blonde, each punch leaving bruises on his awesome skin.

Each punch that Ludwig dealt him brought him closer and closer to the cold ground. He knew well that he fought a losing battle to begin with; but he respected his brother and he wanted to tell him. he wanted to tell him, "Come back to the family."

Ludwig held back his punches as the albino fell to the ground, bleeding from numerous cuts that left his body savaged. The other's chest raised and fell slowly. He beat his brother senseless and now he was on the ground, at his mercy. He was about to deal the final blow when a heart string pulled in his chest. _No, _Ludwig thought, _I'm not going to lose someone. Not now. Not ever._

~.+o+.~

Ivan surveyed the development and, happy, finally determined to stroll over to finish the mission. He took one last look at the sky and enjoyed the warmth for a few moments longer before he decided to make his way to the cowering blonde.

~.+o+.~

The crease on Alfred's forehead tightened when there were little targets left. So far, he had nine. And Natalia had ten. There was only one person left and, as he expected, it was the woman. There was something odd though. If Alfred gets this kill, the game would have tied, so why was Natalia…

Natalia shouted at him as he pointed one of his pistols at the woman, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" her voice boomed from behind, startling Alfred as he was about to pull the trigger.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Alfred countered with the woman.

"She's part of our group!" Natalia said, irritated, "If you hadn't over _slept_, you would've known that she was part of our undercover group!"

"Then why the hell did no one tell me during the trip?" Alfred said, embarrassed that he almost killed a newbie.

"First off, she wanted to see your skills," Natalia sighed, aggravated, "Second, you were too busy wolfing down your supersized double cheeseburger! Haven't you seen yourself eat? It's disgusting!"

Alfred ignored the Belarusian's insult and turned to the woman, "Alfred." He nodded his head in recognition.

"Elizabeta," she curtseyed, "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, same." Alfred yawned, still weak from previous night. Elizabeta snickered to herself as he stretched; probably knowing something that other's didn't. Alfred made a mental note to stay wary o f the odd woman. He awoke fully when he felt the same cold aura that the boss uses to manipulate people.

"I think you're forgetting something, Alfred," Natalia laughed maniacally in his ear. The American shivered as he thought of how the woman could easily walk up behind him. "I won." A sly smile crept along the Belarusian's –already _endearing_- features.

The American hung his head low in defeat, "Okay," he said, "What do you want?"

"Wear this blindfold for a week," Natalia smiled ear to ear as she handed a black piece of cloth to the blonde.

~.+o+.~

Ivan passed by Lovino and the bodies of the body guards that beset the blacktop. It was wonderfully quiet and serene as he walked the distance to their target who cried silently in a ball of confusion. When he reached the Canadian, he bowed deeply.

"Good Morning, Mathew," Ivan greeted with a smile of a thousand sunflowers.

* * *

_**A/N: *sigh* I don't like lying so I'll tell you why this took so long..**_

**_There's this little game out there called LUNA online... and I guess it's pretty self explanatory from here on. ^^; sorry...?_**

**_But hey, before you get mad at me, just remember that this is my summer too..._**

**_I'll be waiting for ya in the next chappy! _**


End file.
